A Rip in the Veil Read Online Free PDF Page B

don’t know what year it is?”
    “As per Matthew here, it’s 1658,” Alex said. She very much wanted Sanderson to break out in contemptuous laughter, but instead he groaned, a long string of dejected ‘no’s’ bursting from him.
    “He must be wrong,” Alex hissed in an undertone, throwing a look at Matthew, who was presently studying the southern road.
    “You think?” Sanderson gave her a despairing look and shook his head, effectively killing the flaring hope she’d felt at the sight of him.
    Matthew came over to her, brows pulled into a worried frown. “We’re in danger here.”
    Alex got to her feet and scanned the surrounding landscape; heather, more heather, even more heather. Nothing that looked in anyway sinister. Insects buzzed, leaves rustled, the water trickled across its pebbled beds – all in all quite peaceful. Matthew put a hand on her arm, pointing in the direction of flashing reflections and an accompanying cloud of dust. Still a mile or so off, she calculated, squinting as she tried to count the reflections.
    “Soldiers.” His fingers sank into her flesh. “I have to go. Will you be coming with me?”
    “What about him?” Alex inclined her head at Sanderson. Not that she wanted him anywhere close – not after those comments about Italy and Ángel – but she still had to ask.
    “Can you walk?” Matthew asked him.
    “No, not with this.” Sanderson waved a hand at his leg.
    “Best you hide then.” Matthew pointed at a huge stand of brambles. Sanderson gave him an incredulous look.
    “In there? And what do you think I am? A knight in armour?”
    Matthew’s mouth twitched. “I see no other alternative. Here, I’ll hold up the lower branches for you as you crawl in.” Sanderson scooted into the hiding place, cursing when he pricked himself on the thorns.
    “Do you know how to get back?” Alex hissed just as they turned away.
    “Get back where?” Sanderson hissed back, a dark shape barely discernible against the undergrowth.
    “To our time – you know, cars, TVs, appliances…”
    “No. I have no idea. I don’t think you can. You’re stuck here, forever, just like I am.” He exhaled unsteadily, and Alex felt her heart do yet another acrobatic manoeuvre in her chest – this time out of fear, not hope.
    “There must be a way back!”
    “Yeah, right. People leap back and forth through time on a regular basis.” He eyed her with dislike. “This is your fault. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”
    *
    Matthew dragged a limping Alex back up the hill. Her head throbbed, and round and round echoed Ángel, a small knot forming in the pit of her stomach. On purpose she hadn’t thought about him for nearly three years, and she wasn’t going to think about him now. Ha! Liar, liar, pants on fire. The damned man popped up in her head far too often – like every time she saw her son. Isaac. Alex blinked, gasped. Isaac. Her knees buckled, her feet stumbled to the point that it was difficult to move, let alone keep up with Matthew’s punishing pace.
    “The cave, let’s just hide in there.” Her ribs were killing her, every breath an agony.
    “Won’t help if they have dogs.” He heaved her in front of him up the hillside, darted into the cave to retrieve his bundle, and then he pushed on upwards, half carrying Alex across the uneven ground.
    At the top they stopped to look down. Below them stretched the road, the crossroads, and the small copse of trees in which Sanderson lay hidden. They dropped flat on their stomachs, and she felt as you do when you play hide and seek, wanting to giggle with nerves.
    “You’re a runaway, aren’t you?” Very unnecessary question, it didn’t exactly take an Einstein to work that one out. He nodded but didn’t elucidate further, his right fist clenched round the handle of his knife. Dirk or dagger would be a more correct term, she thought, eyeing the twelve inch length of steel with respect. Alex dug into her jeans, searching